


Takotsubo

by el_spirito



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_spirito/pseuds/el_spirito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Impressive, Winchester," she says. Dean smiles again, but now that she's closer Lisa can see that it's plastered on, and it doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks like he's gone weeks without sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Takotsubo

Title: Takotsubo  
Author: [](http://el-spirito23.livejournal.com/profile)[**el_spirito23**](http://el-spirito23.livejournal.com/)  
Characters: Dean, Lisa, Ben  
Genre/pairing: faintly Dean/Lisa  
Rating: PG-13  
Word count: 2,372  
Spoilers: season 5/6  
A/N: Written for [](http://salty-catfish.livejournal.com/profile)[**salty_catfish**](http://salty-catfish.livejournal.com/) 's prompt on [](http://hoodie-time.livejournal.com/profile)[**hoodie_time**](http://hoodie-time.livejournal.com/)'s h/c meme 6. Also, 'takotsubo' is the Japanese word for an octopus trap.

Summary: "Impressive, Winchester," she says. Dean smiles again, but now that she's closer Lisa can see that it's plastered on, and it doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks like he's gone weeks without sleeping.

"I know," Dean answers. "I'm awesome."

Lisa looks at him and wishes he believed that.

 

xxxx  
"Here you go," Lisa says. She has an armful of blankets with a pillow stacked precariously on top; she sets them on the couch and manages to smile slightly at the man in front of her. He is hardly the man she remembers from those years before, no longer vibrant and goofy and smart-ass. Now he just looks broken and sad and completely directionless.

"Are you sure about sleeping on the couch?" She asks. She's started arranging the blankets without even thinking about it. Ben used to like to make little nests out of his blankets and pillows, pulling them up around his head so that only his face peeked out. Lisa wonders briefly if that is what her house is for Dean, and if he'll even allow his face to peep out in the wake of this latest tragedy.

"I'm sure," Dean says quietly. He sounds tired. "I just-it's just for a few days, just until-" His voice cuts out and he chokes on the word and Lisa plumps his pillow then gently squeezes his knee.

"It's okay," she says. "Take all the time you need. It's okay."

Dean nods like he doesn't believe her.

"I mean it," she says "As long as you need." She leans down and hugs him loosely around the shoulders. She doesn't take it personally when he flinches away slightly.

She leaves the living room and turns the corner toward the stairs, unsurprised to see Ben sitting on the stairs, arms and chin resting on his knees.

"Mom?" He says quietly. "What's wrong with Dean?"

Lisa sits next to him, strokes his hair out of his eyes.

"He's really sad, baby," she says. "His brother just died and he hasn't quite figured out how to keep going yet."

"Oh," Ben says. He sniffles a bit then rests his head on her thigh. "Where do you think he went? His brother."

"I don't know, Benny," Lisa whispers. "Wherever it is, I like to think that it's a better place than here."

Ben is silent a moment before he sighs.

"I like to think that too."

"Good," Lisa says, planting a kiss on Ben's forehead. "Get some sleep, baby. School tomorrow."

Ben pads up the stairs and Lisa follows. She doesn't sleep very well.

xxxx

The next morning she wakes up to the smell of bacon and pancakes. She pulls on a robe and peeks into Ben's room, surprised to see that he's already out of bed, then walks down the stairs. Dean is standing in front of the stove, spatula in one hand as he masterfully flips pancakes from the stove to a plate. Ben is standing next to him transferring bacon from the pan to a plate, and he laughs at something Dean says too low for Lisa to hear.

"Morning boys," she says with a smile, and it comes out naturally, like she was always meant to say it. They both turn to look at her, AC/DC shirts on and wearing matching grins, and for a second she forgets that Dean is broken and that their relationship is anything but normal, and just revels in the feeling of utter rightness.

"Made you some breakfast," Dean says, gesturing to the table. It's been set for three, with a pitcher of orange juice and the bottle of syrup acting as centerpieces.

"Dean taught me to make the best bacon ever!" Ben announces, bringing the plate containing said bacon to the table. It smells delicious and Lisa snags a piece. It crunches just right when she bites into it, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Impressive, Winchester," she says. Dean smiles again, but now that she's closer Lisa can see that it's plastered on, and it doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks like he's gone weeks without sleeping.

"I know," Dean answers. "I'm awesome."

Lisa looks at him and wishes he believed that.

xxxx

Ben's gone for school and the dishes are done and Dean is sitting on the couch with a beer in one hand, his head in the other. Lisa wants to say something about the alcohol or about Sam or about grieving, but she doesn't. Instead, she sits next to Dean and rests her elbows on her knees.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks finally.

"No," Dean says softly. He takes a swig of the beer and Lisa looks away when she sees tears swimming in his eyes. Dean takes a second to compose himself before speaking again.

"How'd Ben's baseball team do?" He asks. Lisa is touched that he remembers and slightly exasperated by the deflection.

"They sucked. Only won a few games, but they played their hearts out. Ben loves it."

"Good," Dean says. "That's good."

They're quiet again. Dean frowns and rubs at his chest, and Lisa can see that he's grown pale.

"You okay?" She asks.

Dean snorts.

"I'm as okay as you could be, I guess," he says. "Considering."

He waits a beat then laughs sharply.

"Which means I feel like shit."

Lisa knows it's probably the most honest thing he's ever said to her.

"Do you want to go do anything?" Lisa asks. "I know that sometimes just sitting around is pretty bad. We could go to the movies, or you could come grocery shopping, or work out at the gym…anything sound good?"

Dean has that pained look on his face again.

"No, that's okay," he says. "I, uh, I didn't sleep well last night and I might just lay down for awhile."

Lisa feels uneasy but nods and squeezes his shoulder.

"Okay. I'm just going to get some laundry done, so don't hesitate if you need anything."

"Right," Dean says.

"Hey. I mean it," Lisa says. "Anything. You don't have to be alone."

"Okay," Dean says, looking intently at Lisa, his face closed-off and unreadable. Still, she thinks- hopes, really- that she's gotten through to him.

xxxx

Half an hour later, Lisa's managed to track down all of Ben's dirty clothes that he'd strewn around his room and has started the first load when Dean stumbles into the laundry room.

"Lis-" he says, before bending over to vomit. Lisa drops her basket and wraps her arms around Dean's shoulders to keep him from losing his balance. He's sweated through his shirt and his breathing is quick and shallow. He groans when he's done heaving and brings his arm up to his chest again, face scrunched.

"Come on Dean, let's get you in the living room," Lisa says, heart pounding. "Does your chest hurt? What about your arm?"

"Chest, yes," Dean grits out. "Arm, no."

"Okay, that's good. We're good," Lisa says as they stumble toward the living room. Dean nods his head but seems too focused on his breathing to do much else. Once in the living room Lisa arranges Dean into the recovery position, tucking a pillow under his head and smoothing her hand over his sweaty forehead. Cool, clammy, definitely no fever.

"M' heart," Dean whispers. "So fast."

Lisa nods, trying to maintain some composure as she presses her fingers to Dean's neck, feeling the rapid, uneven thump beneath the skin.

"You're okay," she says, fumbling to get her cell phone out of her jeans pocket. "You're just fine. Hang in there."

She calls 911 and tells them –god, please, no-that she thinks Dean is having a heart attack. Dean moans and she threads her fingers through his hair and presses her palm to his chest and whispers pleasepleaseplease under her breath and tries to stop her hands from shaking.

They tell her an ambulance is on the way and Lisa nods and prays and puts the phone on speaker so that she can have both hands on Dean, reassuring them both that he's still alive.

"'S wrong," Dean says, his words slurring. "'S all wrong."

"I know, Dean, ssh, it's okay."

"Wrong," Dean whispers again.

xxxx

The ambulance ride is curt and uneventful. The paramedics hook Dean up to leads and wires and give him Aspirin and listen to his chest while Lisa sits on the little bench and lies to herself that everything's going to be okay.

They take him into the ER and immediately start drawing blood for tests and starting IVs and Dean looks so, so small. Lisa bites her lip to keep her emotions in check, and takes calming breaths in an attempt to remain calm, but she still feels tears run down her face.

"We're taking him back for some tests now," a doctor says, looking at her sympathetically. "We're going to do an emergency cardiac catheterization. Do you know what that is?"

Lisa wants to ask him how the hell she would know something like that. Instead she shakes her head.

"We're going to wind a tiny tube up through a vein in Dean's groin, all the way up to his heart…"

Lisa tunes out after that, nods when she needs to and says she understands, but all she knows is that Dean is broken and he could actually die and she can't do a damn thing about it.

xxxx

"It wasn't a heart attack," the doctor says. "Have you ever heard of Takotsubo cardiomyopathy?"

Lisa takes a deep breath and manages not to yell at him and demand how the hell she would know something like that.

"No. I haven't," she says.

"What about broken heart syndrome?"

xxxx

"So," Dean says, "what you're saying is I had a fake heart attack because my heart was broken?" He's in a hospital bed, sporting cardiac leads and IV lines and a cannula under his nose, and he looks utterly disgusted.

"Not exactly," the doctor says, but Dean waves his hand around in disgust.

"Look, I think I just must have been a little over tired and I had a panic attack. None of this 'broken heart' bullshit."

Lisa sighs as the doctor adjusts his glasses.

"Mr. Winchester, it was much more severe than that. I can assure you that you had very physical symptoms, and while the cause may sound unlikely, it is a real condition. I hear you've suffered a great loss, and been very stressed out on top of it. Those are the greatest risk factors for developing this syndrome. Well, those and being a post-menopausal woman."

Dean's eyes widen comically, and Lisa closes her eyes in frustration with the doctor.

"Post-menopausal—Look, whatever. When can I get out of here?" Dean demands, moving to yank an IV out.

"Dean. You're staying here under observation for a few days," Lisa says, grabbing hold of Dean's hand. "You need to stay. You're probably fine, but you had a couple of scary moments and they just want to make sure."

Dean looks at her, tries to read her expression.

"Dean, we caught this in time to prevent any long-term damage, but your heart went into arrhythmias, and we had to cardiovert you. Do you know what that means?"

"Why the hell would I know what that means?" Dean asks, and Lisa wants to cheer.

"It means we used a defibrillator to normalize your heartbeat. If you hadn't been in the hospital when that happened, you might not be here right now."

Lisa looks at him as he closes his eyes and digests that information and wonders if he wishes he had died. She decides she'd rather not know the answer to that question.

"Right," Dean says finally. "So if I stay here and check out after a few days, I'm good to go?"

"Yes," the doctor says. "Though I would suggest trying to lessen the stress in your life. The chances are good that you wouldn't relapse, but you're obviously prone to such episodes."

"Don't worry," Lisa says. "I can help with that."

Dean looks at her with an expression full of longing and hope and fear and finally squeezes her hand back.

xxxx

Ben cries when Lisa picks him up from school and tells him that Dean's in the hospital, even though she's quick to assure him that Dean's doing okay. When they get home, Ben draws a picture of the Impala and writes 'get well soon' underneath it. On the back, he's drawn a rough sketch of what Lisa thinks might be a man playing a guitar, with the words 'AC/DC rocks!' scrawled next to it.

Dean takes the picture like it's something breakable and priceless, and he shows it off proudly to every nurse that comes in.

xxxx

"You're serious about this, Lis?" Dean asks, looking distastefully at the yoga mats she's laid out on the floor. Lisa pulls her hair up into a ponytail.

"Yes, Dean. The doctor said you need to eliminate stress. This can help," she says, stretching. Dean eyes her uncertainly.

"I'm not, uh, I'm not very…" he trails off as he waves his hand in Lisa's direction.

"Flexible?" She asks.

"Bendy," he answers.

"That's okay," Lisa says. "We're starting with just some meditative techniques. You know, breathing and that kind of stuff."

Dean swallows loudly.

"Okay," he says finally, still looking completely uncertain. He sits down on the mat with a frown.

"Here," Lisa says, sitting down across from him. She draws his knees up and folds her legs around his so that they are close to each other. "Now we're going to practice breathing deeply and calmly, and on clearing your mind. Okay?"

Dean nods, but his eyes are squeezed closed and he's tense.

"Hey," Lisa says.

Dean's eyes open and he looks at her.

"I know you like to cover your problems up with alcohol," she says, pressing on despite the way Dean's face falls, "and you don't like to leave yourself open to actually thinking about things."

Dean looks down and Lisa tilts his chin back up so that they're looking at each other.

"Do you trust me?" She asks.

Dean doesn't say anything but his lower lip wobbles. It reminds Lisa of when Ben was a toddler and about to burst into tears. She leans forward and kisses Dean on the forehead, strokes a thumb over his temple.

"Dean. Do you trust me?"

Dean swallows thickly, then nods.

"Yeah," he says, voice husky. "I trust you."

"Good," Lisa says with a smile. "Then let's get started."


End file.
